Month: November 2018

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Giving Thanks

It’s 6:30 am on Thanksgiving Day.  I’ve been up for hours; not because of stress or worry, but because I am so full of gratitude I feel like I could burst.  This is one of those rare moments of joy before the chaos begins.  I lay in bed this morning, thinking of all of the ages and stages of this life.

I reminisced about the Thanksgivings of my childhood; about making place cards and setting the table with my grandmother’s good china while my mother made the broccoli casserole and my dad prepped the turkey.

I thought back to the Thanksgivings early in my marriage, when I showed up at my mother in-law’s house with that same broccoli casserole, tentatively presenting my offering to this new family, hoping it (and I) would be received with love.

I recalled the first Thanksgiving I hosted, for a few family members in our tiny upstairs apartment.  Our kitchen was the size of a closet, and we ate in the living room that year.  To this day, I’m not sure how we made it all work.

I remembered the year that I filmed Cal, dancing in the kitchen as he gently placed alternating white and yellow cheddar slices on a tray, occasionally declaring that this one was ‘broken’ before taking a bite and grinning at me with those freaking dimples.

I went back to the year that we stumbled with our pronouns; our whole family working to ensure that Lee felt loved and safe and supported.

Some of these Thanksgivings blend together in my mind; I can’t recall which years we spent here and which ones we spent away.  Some of them were stressful and chaotic; some were quiet and relaxed.  But there are themes that run throughout.  Love.  Gratitude. Acceptance.  Abundance.

And this morning, my heart is bursting with those things.  Grateful feels like too small a word.  What’s bigger than gratitude?  What is gratitude and peace and joy and love pushing so hard at your heart that it brings tears to your eyes?

Maybe it sounds dramatic. Maybe it sounds like too much. But those tears really are pushing at the edges of my eyes and the only reason is because I am remembering to remember all of my blessings.  Like…

My husband.  This guy is cranky and rough around the edges and a little bit gruff.  And he is the epitome of loyalty and commitment.  He is full of love and he cries at movies and he always does the right thing, even when the wrong thing is easier.  He provides for us and cares for us and when I’m at my worst, he just shakes his head and takes a deep breath and keeps on loving me.  He is my rock and he is an incredible role model for these kids.  He is tough and soft all at the same time, and what on earth would I do without him? Thank you, God, for this incredible man.

Bea.  What an incredible young woman.  The holidays are so hard for her.  She’s been through a lifetime of hardship in her short 16 years, and she still faces each day with grace and strength.  Watching her grow has been one of life’s little miracles for me. When I first met this plucky fourth grader, she had the soul of an old woman and the smile of a cherub (when you could get her to smile).  I had no idea that she would become a part of my heart like she has.  In our first year as a family, I worried about how to make her feel welcome in our home and how to balance the addition of a new family member. I worried that we weren’t enough, or maybe we were too much, and I tried so hard to make it all less awkward.  And now, I can’t even remember what it was like before she was here.  She’s been a part of my heart for so long, and now she’s a part of my family, and we are all better for it.  Thank you, God, for this amazing young woman.

Lee.  Oh, my heart.  This kid.  This kid is awesome.  As in, awe-inspiring.  Incredible. Brave, funny, smart, strong, perceptive, loving, and honest.  This kid is going to change the world.  He is going to bring his whole self out into the world and teach tolerance through love and humor.  He is going to care for his menagerie of pets and use his incredible powers of observation and his scientific brain to accomplish incredible things.  And in the meantime, I get to watch him transform like a butterfly.  Can you imagine that?  We all have hopes and dreams for our children… but I’ve gotten to watch my child grow in ways I never imagined.  He surprises me at every turn, and he brings me immeasurable joy.  His laugh and his heart and his head on my shoulder; they all take my breath away.  Thank you God, for this inspiring, incredible kid.

Cal.  My baby.  My sweet, silly, stubborn little guy.  The one who probably gets away with too much because he’s the baby of the family and I’m a sucker for those dimples.  But Cal is my cuddler.  He’s the soulful one; a deep thinker who seeks God in all of the places.  He’s the one who will spontaneously lead us in prayer, or ask questions about heaven when I tuck him into bed.  He’s sensitive and kind and always wants to do the right thing. He’s my go-getter.  When presented with options of things to do, the rest of the family will say ‘no, thank you’ to all of them; Cal will ask why he can only choose one.  He’s athletic and musical and his guitar skills are on track to surpass his dad’s someday.  When I hear them play together, I get a lump in my throat.  Thank you God, for this sweet, sassy little man.

I am grateful today for all of these blessings; for my stepsons and my parents and siblings and my in-laws. For lifelong friends and new friends and the unconditional love from my dogs.  For a warm, safe home and a log in the fire and new throw pillows.  For our church family and a supportive community and cinnamon flavored coffee.  For the sound of laughter and a shoulder to cry on.

Dear God,  thank you for all of the blessings of this life, even the ones that appear as hardships.  Help me to cultivate gratitude and share it with others, and help me to remember this moment of calm once the chaos begins.  Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  May you be abundantly blessed.

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Yesterday

Amazing things that happened yesterday:

– I rang in the bell choir despite 3 stitches in the palm of my hand.  And I didn’t launch any bells over the balcony into the congregation. I’m going to call that a win.

– During my committee meeting (which lasted longer that I anticipated), Bea sat and chatted with the pastor’s daughter.  It was great to see her so engaged, and it alleviated my guilt about making her wait.

– By the time I finally finished my meeting, Bea had gone home with a friend (in and of itself, this is pretty cool), and Cal hadn’t broken anything or spilled anything in the sanctuary.

– I made it home in time to vacuum and change into my sweatpants before my friends started showing up with wine and pizza.

 

Yesterday was fantastic.  It was fantastic because it was sad… and then the sadness flowing through a group of people prompted us to finally get together and lean on each other and share the burden and then share some laughs and share some food and wine and then somehow, the sadness dissipated.  It still hung in the air, but it wasn’t weighing us down anymore.

Our pastor is leaving us. Yesterday was his last day.  It was hard.  So many emotions swirl around that; when you have a church family and you have come to rely on that family for love and support and guidance, losing a pastor is painful.  It’s not as painful as a death, but it hurts like a breakup.  Like a breakup with a friend and a parent and your guardian angel all at once.

There’s a group of us; four families from church, who get together on a semi-regular basis.  We’ve done bible studies and camping trips and birthday parties together.  The moms of this group have a text message thread where we talk nearly every day. But this past two weeks, our text conversations have been slow and a bit stilted.  We’ve used words like, ‘biopsy’ and ‘anxiety’ and ‘malaise.’  We were all struggling, in different ways.

And while we all knew we needed each other, we hadn’t been able to coordinate schedules and actually make it happen until this weekend.  So when the service was over, and we were all reeling a little and people started asking, “What’s everyone up to today?” it just all came together.  I hadn’t prepared for guests.  My bathroom wasn’t clean and our dogs smelled like whatever they rolled in yesterday and I was frantically trying to get all the fur off the sofa when the first people started to arrive.  And the timing was perfect.

When I was younger, I needed time to prepare for guests.  I wanted everything to be just right.  I needed to clean and shop and have enough of the right kind of glassware.  I wanted my house to look a certain way, and of course, I wanted it all to look effortless.

But as I grow into parenthood and deeper friendships, I realize that the need for connection is so much more important than any of that. I’ve hosted enough impromptu get togethers to realize that nobody is judging my dust and that people would rather drink wine out of plastic cups together in a room full of laughter than sit at home waiting for someone to go out and buy matching stemware.

I don’t have enough time to postpone the party in favor of the preparation.  Life is short and schedules are tight.  When we have an opportunity to be in communion with one another, I want to embrace that opportunity.  I want to love my people and lean on my people and laugh and cry together.  Yesterday, we did just that.  I’m so grateful for friends who can pray with us and cry with us and celebrate with us. We are so blessed to have people who will hold us up when our knees are weak and love our children like their own.

As an added bonus, one of my dearest friends was also able to join us and bring her kids over for pizza and football.  Her friendship has sustained me through my growing-up years, and her presence grounds me and reminds me that who I am is just the latest evolution between who I was and who I am becoming.  In my mind, we’re still ‘growing up’ together, and when she brought her kids to share pizza and cookies and laughs and a game of manhunt in the dark, I felt a sort of peaceful right-ness that slowed my breathing and made me smile.

Days like these sustain me. If I go too long without consciously connecting with the people I love, the tension builds between my shoulder blades and pours out of my mouth in the form of sharp words and impatient replies.  Instead of bringing my gifts into the world, I begin to send out stress and anger; giving the world the worst parts of me instead of the best ones.

For me, joy comes from the connections in my life.  It comes from my friends and my family; from my children and my husband and even my students.  But when I stop consciously seeking it; when I stop inviting it in, it fades into the background.  When I get caught up in my to-do list and the stresses and the worries of everyday life, it’s the equivalent of cleaning my house for company but never opening the door. Everything seems to be in order, but something is definitely missing.

So yesterday, I opened the door to my dirty house and received the blessing of communion.  Communion as community, fellowship, association; communion as intimate communication; communion as a group of people with shared faith.  This type of communion sustains me, and I am infinitely grateful for it.

At the end of the day, I climbed into bed, still wearing the sweatpants that my mom gave me for Christmas in 1999.  I said a grateful prayer and settled in with my head on my husband’s shoulder.  And the sadness I had felt earlier mixed with the joy and somehow turned into strength and peace. I had been fortified by friendship and communion, and sleep came quickly and easily.

I’m sure it had nothing to do with the wine…